


we have all night

by knoxoursavior



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Blowjobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6586615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Why you?</i> Bruce asks with his grip on Clark’s hip, leaving bruises that won’t last the night, gone as soon as Clark inevitably flies away to the other side of the world while Bruce pretends to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we have all night

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [selofain](http://selofain.tumblr.com) for reading over this aaah
> 
> so a bit of context. this follows batman/superman #31. what's happening rn is that after all the shit and exertion clark went through (especially the things that happened when he was depowered like locking himself in a room full of kryptonite???) he's dying. so in batman/superman #31, he goes to bruce and tells him, asks him to find kara so that clark can sort of be at peace and know that she'll protect the earth the same way he did.
> 
> so yea yea yea clark is dying and bruce is !!!!!! not okay with it, that's basically it
> 
> oh and also, there are references to the time bruce got amnesia and jim gordon was batman. bruce just recently regained (or accepted) his memories and took up the bat suit again.

“Kal. Stay.”

Clark pauses, lets his feet touch the ground, but his back is still tense and Bruce knows he’d still be gone at the first scream of help he’d hear.

“Just one night. For me, Clark,” Bruce says, and there it is. Clark’s fist is unclenching and his shoulders are drooping and he looks almost like he could fall to the floor any moment now.

Clark looks tired and worn out and it makes Bruce’s heart clench to think that he’s dying. That one day, Bruce won’t have the luxury of calling Clark when he feels like Gotham’s holding him too tight, suffocating him, and he needs to find the light again. That Clark’s dying and Bruce won’t be able to do anything about it because Clark wants him to focus on other things—things that aren’t _making sure he doesn’t leave Bruce._

“Please,” Bruce says, reaching out to wrap his arms around Clark’s waist as he presses himself against Clark’s back and noses at Clark’s neck.

“Please,” he repeats, because he just wants to spend the whole night with Clark in his arms, holding him tight, hoping that maybe if he doesn’t let go, Clark will be forced to stay forever. It’s selfish and it’s probably asking too much, but if Bruce can’t save Clark then all he asks for is this one night.

There’s a stretch of silence, of Bruce waiting and holding on too tight and barely resisting the urge to press kisses onto Clark’s skin.

Finally, finally, his voice small and breathy and breaking, Clark says, “Okay.”

And so Bruce turns Clark around, presses his tongue inside Clark’s mouth, threads his fingers into Clark’s hair. He doesn’t close his eyes, because he wants to savor this moment, to touch and to smell and to see and to hear and to drown himself in everything that is Clark Kent because there’s going to come a day when he won’t be able to anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Clark whispers against his mouth when Bruce takes a moment to breathe.

And it’s unfair, that an assurance is already on the tip of Bruce’s tongue. _It’s not your fault_ , Bruce wants to say, even though Clark’s dying because he helps, because he saves the people of Earth, and protects his home just like all costumed heroes do. Except Clark’s life now has a much shorter fuse, right when Bruce just got his own back on track.

 _Why now?_ Bruce asks with the drag of his nails along the line of Clark’s cock as it strains against his suit.

 _Why you?_ Bruce asks with his grip on Clark’s hip, leaving bruises that won’t last the night, gone as soon as Clark inevitably flies away to the other side of the world while Bruce pretends to sleep.

“Slow down,” Clark says as he mouths at Bruce’s jaw and struggles with the catches of Bruce’s suit. “We have all night.”

Bruce lets out a shaky breath.

“Let’s go up to my room,” Bruce says, because Clark deserves more than the cold, hard floor of the Cave.

Their fingers are intertwined as they go, even though Bruce wants nothing more than to press their bodies together, to stay that way for as long as possible.

“I missed you,” Clark says as Bruce pushes him onto the bed and settles between his thighs. “I wanted to go to you. I wanted to ask for your advice.”

“You did, that one time,” Bruce says. He remembers the bright red of Clark’s sweater and the even brighter blue of his eyes standing out from the grays of Gotham.

“I did, and I don’t regret it,” Clark says, choking on the last word as Bruce pinches his nipple, just on the good side of painful. Then, Bruce takes his dick in his hand and pulls and twists, slowly, the way he knows Clark loves, the way he knows Clark lasts.

“I’m glad,” Bruce says, because he doesn’t want to see Clark ridden with guilt, shoulders heavy with regrets and _what ifs_. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his mind about the right thing to do, but Bruce pushes it away and instead shuffles further down the bed so he can take the head of Clark’s cock in his mouth.

“Bruce,” Clark breathes, and Bruce takes it as his cue to take more of Clark in his mouth, his tongue gently lapping at the underside of Clark’s cock as he does so.

 _I’m going to miss you_ , Bruce says with the hollowing of his cheeks and the working of his throat.

 _No one can replace you,_ Bruce says with the way he noses at the hair near the base of Clark’s cock and the way he lets the taste of Clark rest on his tongue. He wants this and he wants it to last. He wants to sear this in his brain and never forget the way Clark feels.

Later, Bruce is going to eat Clark out and leave bites on Clark’s neck and taste the sweat on Clark’s skin, but right now, Bruce is swallowing around the head of Clark’s cock and the breathy little moan that Clark lets out as Bruce slides his cock out of his mouth is enough.

“Bruce, please,” Clark murmurs, desperate. Bruce only presses a kiss onto the head of his cock, pressing the tip of his tongue briefly against the slit, tasting the pre-come dripping from it. He lets himself take a breath as he reaches over to his nightstand and takes out a bottle of lube.

“We have all night,” Bruce says, but still, he goes right back down, mouth on Clark’s cock and a finger teasing around Clark’s ass.

 _No one else will feel the same as you do,_ Bruce says with the way he pushes his fingers into Clark, slow and sure and aiming straight for Clark’s prostate. Tonight is for Clark—so he can take a break and give into something other than the urgent need to _help_.

But, really, tonight is for Bruce. Because Bruce is selfish and petty and he’d take away the world’s savior away, keep Superman to himself, just because he wants to and just because he _can_.

Bruce picks up the pace, twisting his fingers and tongue tracing the ridge along the head of Clark’s cock and barely even noticing how Clark’s fingers are now tangled in his hair, pulling and pushing and begging.

Bruce moans onto Clark’s cock and _Bruce_ is the name on Clark’s lips as he comes.

“Bruce,” Clark murmurs once his breaths have settled and his heart has calmed.

 _Clark_ , Bruce calls back with the way he slips his finger out of Clark, takes it into his mouth, tastes just for a moment and sighs.

“I love you, Bruce,” Clark says, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s shoulders and pulling him onto the bed, onto Clark’s chest, and Clark wraps himself around Bruce until he feels like there’s no place in his body that Clark isn’t touching.

“I love you too,” Bruce says, because this is something Clark deserves to hear.

Because Clark deserves more than the things he’s had to go through. He deserves more than death this early.

And Bruce—well. Bruce doesn’t deserve anything good, and yet here he is, drowning in Clark Kent like he has a right to.

 _Don’t leave me_ , Bruce says with the way he burrows himself further into Clark’s warmth. _Don’t leave._

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!!


End file.
